


What It Exposes

by crazygirlne



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: (sort of), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eventual Smut, F/M, Friends who are secretly in love, Fuck Or Die, Hurt/Comfort, Post Episode 4x11
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-03-08 20:19:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 19,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13465800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazygirlne/pseuds/crazygirlne
Summary: Caitlin and Harry have been growing closer. It's only natural that she finds him attractive, only normal that she's increasingly turned on by innocuous things like his giving her a compliment inthatvoice. It's only to be expected that when he ends up sick, she does everything in her power to help him get better.Everything.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ClaudiaRain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaudiaRain/gifts).



> Starts during that probably insignificant (but oh, so noteworthy for the Snowells fan) scene near the end of Flash episode 4x11. Diverges afterward into tropey, eventual smut. Expect short chapters, to be updated as frequently as I’m able (which varies). Chapters will alternate POV. Mildly dubious consent as a result of poisoning.

“What can I say? When you got it, you got it.” 

“You got it,” Harry chimes in, with a rough voice that gives her chills of the best variety. By the time Caitlin looks over her shoulder at Harry, he’s already looking back at Ralph, but she knows his eyes were on her. She can feel it.

Maybe it’s because they’ve been so much closer lately, both physically and emotionally. It’s the shift back and forth from Killer Frost to herself, in part; Harry and Cisco have taken point on helping her change, in both directions, and she’s gotten used to coming out of her Frost-induced haze with him in close proximity, watching her carefully for any signs of trauma.

She’ll admit to herself, in the quiet of her room at night, that the little smile he gives her when he sees she’s okay is more of a help to her mental state than it probably should be. It’s probably her favorite part of waking up after a dangerous excursion.

She’s stayed up late talking with Harry frequently in recent nights, letting him know what might help her and Killer Frost, what might not. She’s known Cisco long enough that he doesn’t always stick around; he knows most of her stories by now, and while the three of them have fun together, Cisco doesn’t  _ have  _ to be there. When he leaves, it ends up Harry and Caitlin trading stories on the couch, often for long enough that she’s utterly forgotten the point of talking by the time they have to call it a night.

When they do, when they’ve talked until late enough, his voice takes on the same low, husky quality as it did tonight. Occasionally, that voice lingers with her after he leaves, long enough for her to get herself in bed, long enough for her hands to start sliding down her soft nightgown, long enough for…

Well, maybe it’s not so surprising she responds to that voice the way she does. It doesn’t help, either, that their couch sessions seem to be lessening their personal-space bubbles. They stand closer than they need to more often now, and they’ve gotten familiar enough that she doesn’t even react when he does things like push her computer chair in for her before he leans in, again, closer than he needs to.

She doesn’t react externally, at least. There’s definitely a part of her craving actual contact.

That part of her demands much more of Caitlin’s attention than it should tonight. It’s still a constant presence when the rest of the team takes their leave. Harry leans in over her to make a quick notation into the computer she’s sitting in front of, and her breath catches as his voice echoes through her again.

_ You got it. _

She closes her eyes, scolding herself for her reaction, for lusting after a friend who—

“Caitlin?” He sounds concerned, and then his hand is a gentle weight on her shoulder. She opens her eyes to see him even closer than she realized, and he searches her face, probably looking for traces of Killer Frost. Killer Frost herself doesn’t concern any of them by now, but Harry  _ would  _ be concerned by Caitlin suddenly becoming that scared or angry with no apparent cause.

“I’m alright,” she tells him, blinking. When he doesn’t immediately move his hand away or back up, she gives into her urge to cover his hand with hers, and she smiles until he relaxes, a smile playing at his lips, too. The moment stretches, and her attention darts to his mouth before she focuses back on the warm eyes behind the glasses. 

Harry’s never given any clear indication that he thinks of her as anything but a teammate and friend, but Caitlin is suddenly nearly certain that this level of attraction is impossible without reciprocation. She can almost taste it, how much she wants to just lean in and—

Harry blinks and straightens, squeezing her shoulder once before letting go, and the moment breaks. Caitlin exhales and tries to remember what she should be doing. She’s sure there’s something.

“Take a break with me,” Harry offers, jerking his head toward the nearest comfortable piece of furniture, a couch they dragged into this lab a while back. “Couch” being, possibly, too generous a term for the two-person seat, but thinking of it as a loveseat when she shares it most often with Harry seems dangerous. 

“Sure,” she agrees, dismissing anything she can’t remember, glad she sounds like her normal self. He waits for her to sit before he joins her, and she can practically feel the heat radiating off of him, they’re so close. He leans back into the cushions and rests an arm along the back of the couch. It runs behind her shoulders, and she raises an eyebrow at him.

The expression is wasted, though; he simply lets his head relax, closing his eyes and tilting his face toward the ceiling. He looks completely at ease, like he could fall asleep at any moment, and for the briefest of seconds, Caitlin considers curling into his side, resting her head on his shoulder, and seeing what happens. Would they end up falling asleep? Would he pull away?

Would it end up being something more?

She doesn’t do it, though. Instead, she studies him for a few seconds longer.

“I can feel you watching me,” he says suddenly, rubbing his far hand across his forehead before removing his glasses. He straightens, some, and looks at her, scanning her face as if searching for something. “Are you really alright? You’ve been handling the changes pretty well, but you don’t quite seem like yourself tonight.”

“I’m fine,” Caitlin responds immediately. “I’m just…” Distracted. Aroused. “I’m tired, I think.” It’s not even a lie, not really, though the feeling is nearly overwhelmed by the heat thrumming through her system. 

He watches her, and there’s a flash of… His eyes are dark, wanting, for just a fraction of a second, short enough that she probably imagined it, and then he’s back to his normal self while Caitlin struggles to breathe normally. He sets his glasses aside, then hesitates a moment before reaching out and carefully trailing fingers along a section of her hair.

“Sometimes,” he says, and there’s  _ that _ voice again, “when I’m really tired or I’m having trouble seeing, the colors all blend together. You’re not that different, you know. You and Killer Frost.”

She considers arguing with him, but his fingers repeat their movements, and she swears he’s leaning closer. She is a smart, strong, capable woman, and she’s not going to lose her ability to speak here, just because she wants so badly to lean into Harry’s touch. She’s sure she doesn’t normally get caught up in him quite as obviously as she is tonight; Cisco would’ve called her on it. 

Harry strokes her hair a third time, and her eyes flutter shut. There’s a shift in the weight on the couch, and then Harry’s forehead rests slowly against hers. Heat and affection surge through her at once, and she keeps her eyes shut, not wanting to break this moment. She wants to pull him closer, is almost dizzy with the need to kiss him, but at the same time, she wants to stay like this forever. Her fantasies can’t be shattered if she doesn’t truly admit them to herself, and there’s something to be said for this level of sheer want.

It’s intoxicating.

“I’m dizzy.”

It takes Caitlin a moment to realize the words are Harry’s, not her own. She opens her eyes, frowning as she registers the tremor in his voice. 

“Harry?” He doesn’t respond. His forehead is warm against hers, too warm, and she feels a sudden surge of fear that threatens to make her even colder. “Not now,” she mutters, forcing down the errant emotions and focusing on Harry. She takes his hand and moves it away from her hair, then uses a firm grip on his shoulders to settle him back down against the couch. Whereas just a minute earlier, he looked fine, he now seems flushed. She places a hand on his forehead, and he leans into her touch.

“Caitlin,” he says, voice almost worshipful. He’s definitely feverish. “I don’t feel so great.”

Caitlin purses her lips and stands, mind already sorting through the possibilities. What could come on so quickly and be affecting him so strongly? She’s entirely fixated on figuring out the problem and then a solution, and she doesn’t even think as she presses a kiss to his forehead before turning to her lab equipment.

“Don’t worry, Harry. We’ll fix this.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry feels horrible. Luckily, Caitlin is there. She makes everything better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They’re dealing with an unknown, potentially severe illness at this point, so there’s that and Caitlin taking care of him.
> 
> This isn’t quite a remix of [Exposed by Your Touch](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10073870), but when I wrote that, ClaudiaRain requested a Snowells version. I knew theirs would play out quite differently, and it has, but if this seems at all familiar or you noticed the similar title, it’s not entirely coincidence.

Harry can't remember ever feeling this bad in his life. His memory is unparalleled, so he's absolutely certain as he clarifies, silently, that he's  _ definitely  _ never felt this bad in his life. 

He tries to tell Caitlin his symptoms when she asks.

“I'm… Vertigo. And my skin is crawling. Except when you touch it. You feel nice, Caitlin.”

She frowns. They were so close a few minutes ago, and now she's mostly across the room. Is she unhappy with him? He wanted to relax with her and maybe,  _ maybe  _ tell her how he feels. He didn't intend to upset her. 

“What didn't you tell me, Harry?” Caitlin is right next to him again, and he smiles weakly. 

“You're gorgeous.” Damn it, did he say that? Does he care? He thinks maybe he should, but he doesn’t.

Caitlin blinks, and for a moment, her frown is a little less pronounced. It's enough that it finally sinks in, causing equal measures of relief and concern; she isn't upset with him. She's worried about him.

He wants to touch her. It's nothing new, not really, but it's overwhelming, and she's so close. 

So he does. 

He reaches out and cups her cheek, his mind clearing enough at the uncommon contact that he's able to register the fact the she leans into his touch. “I'll be fine, Caitlin,” he says, making sure his voice is steady. “We'll figure it out.” 

Caitlin nods and turns to walk back to her equipment. Her impending departure stirs something like panic in Harry. He reaches out again, catching her wrist before she can get far.

“Wait, Caitlin.” She turns back to him. Even in this state, he can think quickly enough to continue speaking without putting too much on the line, he thinks. “Help me to the bed,” he says, eyes flickering to one of the hospital beds they keep around just in case. “It'll be easier on you, but I don't think I can make it there on my own.”

He realizes how true his statement is when she helps him up from the couch. He manages to take most of his weight, at least, the exertion appearing to help to the slightest extent. 

“Any other symptoms, Harry?” Caitlin asks when they near their destination. 

“Trouble concentrating,” he says, “though it's a little better for the moment.” Caitlin helps him sit on the bed, then helps him turn so he can lie down. When he is comfortable as he's going to get right now, she runs a cool hand over his forehead, and he can't quite help the resulting sigh of pleasure. If she could just keep doing that, he might be okay. He opens eyes he doesn't remember closing and looks at her, her worried expression so close to his face. “Am I hallucinating, or did you kiss me? My forehead. Not my lips, I'd remember that.”

Caitlin flushes a pretty pink, and Harry reaches out to run a knuckle across her cheek, which doesn't seem to help her blushing problem.

“I’m brilliant, Snow,” he murmurs. “Even my hallucinations are top notch.”

There’s a train of thought connected to the red of her cheeks, but he can’t follow it. Instead, he lets his hand fall to his side, misery again at the forefront of his mind. His eyes close, and he rests his arm over them, blocking out any light that’s trying to filter in.

“I’m going to need a blood sample,” Caitlin’s saying. She says a few other things, but he’s having trouble following, now that he’s resting. He doesn’t feel any better like this, but nothing seems important enough to pay attention to properly. The tone of her voice is soothing, even if he can’t make out most of the words. “I think he must have been exposed to something when he was working on the axid.”

Harry tries to open his eyes to see whether anyone else is there, but when he starts to move, he forgets what he’s doing and lies still again. After a time that he honestly can’t say whether is long or short, he feels Caitlin’s gloved hand on his arm. She takes his blood carefully, clinically, but then he hears the gloves come off, and she slides her hand down to give his a squeeze.

He returns the pressure and find the strength to open his eyes. “I’m exhausted,” he says, watching her. She seems a little calmer now than she was before, but in the way she has where she puts her objectives in between her and her fear. “I would solve this in three minutes, max, if I could just concentrate.”

Caitlin smiles and holds his hand even tighter. “Sure, Harry,” she says.

“With your help, of course. We could solve it in three minutes, you and I.”

“I’m sure we could.” Caitlin glances to the side at a vial of blood, and Harry knows she’ll be getting up soon to attend to it. “Since you can’t concentrate, though, I called in Cisco to help. He’ll be here as soon as he lets Iris know what’s going on.”

Harry groans. “Did you have to call Ramon?”

This smile looks a little more genuine than the last. “Harrison Wells, you like Cisco just fine.”

“Yes,” Harry agrees, watching her intently so she knows how important this is, “but  _ he _ doesn’t know that.” He waits for her response.

Caitlin huffs. “I don’t think I need to tell him.”

“Good.” Harry nods and blinks. The world is dark for a few seconds, until he remembers to open his eyes. “This isn’t normal, Snow. It came on too fast. I don’t know what’s happening.” He frowns. “I hate not knowing things.”

“We’ll figure it out,” she promises him. 

“My head hurts.” He has to tell her the rest before it fades again. He clutches at her hand to anchor himself. “I have photophobia, severe fatigue.” He runs through a mental checklist before nodding again. “I think that’s all for right now. I was fine before, on the couch, with you. We should do that more.”

“As soon as you’re better, Harry.”

“Maybe then you can kiss me again, too,” he suggests while he’s feeling well enough for it to occur to him. There’s that blush again, and he wants to take that as a good sign, but she looks a little upset. “What’s wrong, Caitlin?”

“You’re not yourself right now, Harry,” she says, “and I didn’t notice. And I don’t know how to fix it. Yet.” She takes a deep breath. “I’ll fix it, and then if you still want to kiss me, we’ll talk, alright?”

He watches her for a few seconds. She seems sincere, but why is she so upset when he didn’t even realize anything was wrong until he caught himself about to kiss her? “Alright,” he agrees, and she squeezes his hand one more time before letting go. 

Harry lets his eyes fall shut again. He listens to her work, trying to make himself guess what she’s doing, what tests she’s running, but he forgets his conclusions as soon as he reaches them. He keeps his eyes shut when she places a cool cloth on his forehead. She’s talking to him the whole time, but he couldn’t say a single thing she’s told him, because none of it is registering, just the cadence of her voice.

Harry likes her voice. It’s one of the many things that makes him want to be closer to her. They’ve been closer a lot, and he likes that. Maybe if she figures out the problem, they can be close again.

Closer.

He hurts.

Harry sighs as Caitlin takes his hand again, relaxing from his restless twilight state. She always helps him think better. Sure, the rest of the team helps in their ways, too—not that he has to admit it; he’s perfectly brilliant on his own, thanks—but there’s something about Caitlin in particular. She makes him better, his world brighter.

Killer Frost is fun, too, and has more of Caitlin in her than either one of them will admit right now. He hopes that, someday, the two be able to truly merge or at least happily coexist rather than their current truce, but in the meantime, if he has to spend the evening with either Caitlin or with Killer Frost?

Well. Killer Frost is great, but Caitlin has always drawn more of his attention than seems strictly necessary. He gave up fighting it some time ago.

She’s still talking to him, and some of the words finally trickle through.

“You seem to be resting better when I’m holding your hand… Cisco be here… Can’t get any worse, Harry. We need you.”

“I need you,” he manages, barely over a whisper. He’s not sure whether she hears him. 

“I won’t leave you,” she says, and he thinks she’s holding his hand against her cheek, but he can’t force his eyes open to check. “I’ll need to let go of your hand again soon, but even if you can’t feel me, I’m here. I’m right here.”

“Thank you,” he exhales, his breath finally slowing into something deep and regular. Falling this ill is unpleasant in the extreme, he decides, but if he has to be here, he’s glad that Caitlin is by his side.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is sick, and Caitlin and Cisco scramble to figure out how to make him better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been sick a lot in the past several years. I’ve been incoherent with pain, medication, or other medical factors, so Harry’s POV right now is pretty easy for me to write from experience. I am not, however, a doctor. What I couldn’t easily google here is made up. This is not a serious medical fic.
> 
> I’ll keep updating as often as I can, no more than once a day. I’m a little ahead cause this fic currently has hold of me, but I’m alone taking care of my kid, my parents’ two dogs, cat, three chickens, numerous plants, and their house, plus a job, communicating long distance with my husband… You get the picture ;)

 

After Harry falls asleep, Caitlin is able to get more work done. She starts by putting in an IV and giving him something for the discomfort, as well as for the fever that is starting to worry her. When Cisco finally shows up, she’s running another blood panel.

“This isn’t a standard illness,” she says without waiting for him to speak. She keeps talking as he walks over to check on Harry, looking a little shaken at how still and flushed Harry looks. “He’s been either asleep or mostly incoherent.” She brushes away the memory of his request that they kiss. This isn’t the time to examine it, as much as she wants to. She’ll get him better first, like she told him, and then she’ll see whether he even remembers it. “All of our normal tests have come back inconclusive. They agree something is wrong, but I can’t pinpoint what. His numbers are all over the place.”

“He seemed fine earlier,” Cisco says, looking at Harry once more before joining Caitlin at her equipment. “You’re probably right; he picked up something when he was neutralizing the axid. It’s a good working theory, at least. Should we send Dibny to investigate?”

“No,” Caitlin says immediately. “Nobody else should go there until we know what’s going on. The worst thing that could happen would be the whole team falling sick.”

Cisco scans the results of the tests she’s run and hums like he’s thinking.

“What is it?” she asks.

“You’re right, all around, but I think given what we know about Trickster Junior and Mommy Prank, it’s probably a poison that we’re dealing with.”

He’s right. The data in Caitlin’s head shifts, rearranges, falls into a different pattern. It doesn’t help, doesn’t change either their plan of attack or anything else they know. It’s something, though. It makes it feel more urgent, a poison rather than an illness. She takes a breath, letting Cisco pour through the rest of the information while she hooks Harry up to the monitor. Harry barely stirs as she connects the leads, just leans into her touch when she strokes his forehead. 

“How’s he looking?” Cisco asks.

Caitlin takes a breath. “His heart is beating too fast, his fever still hasn’t come down, and his pulse ox is a little lower than it should be. Nothing in the range of dangerous yet, but if we don’t fix it…” She can’t bring herself to finish the sentence.

Cisco does it for her. “He’s probably going to keep getting worse.”

It was so easy, just a few hours ago, so right sitting with him on the loveseat.

She distracts herself by throwing herself into figuring out the problem. “If we can’t figure it out,” she says after they’ve been working in silence for a while, “we might have to risk sending someone in, after all.” There’s pressure behind her eyes, and she looks at her friend, who’s watching her, concern clear in his expression. “We can’t lose him, Cisco.”

“I know, Caitlin. We won’t.” 

She takes a moment, then goes back to work, staring at printouts and through microscopes until her vision is swimming. She stands, stretching, and checks on Harry. His numbers are a little worse, but not alarmingly so, not yet. She runs a hand through his hair, watching him as he sleeps. He exhales, almost a sigh, when she takes his hand for a moment. She can feel Cisco’s eyes on her, and maybe this is more than she might’ve done last time Harry was unconscious, but she doesn’t care. Cisco remains silent.

The pattern continues, test after test, taking quick breaks with Harry in between. She and Cisco are near their breaking point when Iris comes and checks on them.

“You need to take care of yourselves, too,” she says, “or else you’re not going to do him any good at all.”

Caitlin and Cisco exchange looks. Cisco speaks for both of them. “We’ll take a break soon. We just need to figure out whether someone needs to go through Axel’s things. It’s too much of a risk until we’ve done whatever else we can.”

Iris studies them both, almost stern as she assesses, then looks at Harry. Her face shifts, worry taking the forefront. “Okay. Keep me updated,” she says before she takes her leave.

Caitlin starts one more test running, then grabs a chair and sits down with Harry. She takes his hand and starts talking, explaining their theory, what they’ve tested for, and that they haven’t found anything they can do except band aid treatments that aren’t really working.

“We’ll figure it out, though,” she reassures him emphatically. “We have to, so we can go back to talking at night.” Caitlin doesn’t care that they haven’t actually missed a night yet. “Plus,” she adds, dropping her voice to a mock whisper, “I think Cisco would rather be anywhere but here when you and I are talking.”

“That’s…” Cisco seems like he’s poised to object, but then he shrugs. “That’s true. You two go off into your own little world sometimes. But that’s fine; me and Harry’ve got our things, too.” He sniffs. Instead of turning away like Caitlin expects, he continues watching Caitlin and Harry, as if he’s putting pieces together.

She hasn’t been obvious enough in her romantic affection for Harry that Cisco’s noticed, has she? She definitely keeps the lusty thoughts to a minimum during the day. Usually.

She turns her attention back to Harry, ignoring the eyes on them. She lifts his hand so she can rest the back of it against her cheek, leaning into the contact. Harry stirs ever-so-slightly, turning his head toward her without opening his eyes.

She’s not sure when she last wanted something more than for him to be okay right now. She’s gotten so used to him, to being able to talk to him and spend time with him, to thinking of him in ways that definitely aren’t appropriate for just a teammate, and…

She’d like to be more. Maybe she’ll tell him so, once he’s better. She doesn’t think he’s the type to hold it against her if he doesn’t feel the same, so what can it hurt? Besides her ego, but at the moment, that seems less than important.

Cisco snaps his fingers, and Caitlin jumps. “I think I know what’s going on here,” he says, and she turns to look at him. His eyes are wide. “I mean, it’s not like a normal thing, or even a real one I don’t think, but neither was that acid a few days ago, right?” 

“What is it, Cisco?” Caitlin tries to rein in her impatience, straightening without letting go of Harry’s hand.

“I think I know what’s happening here.” Cisco strides to them, disbelief shifting to excitement. “Let go of his hand a sec, and watch the monitor.”

Caitlin frowns but does as he says, watching as Harry’s heart rate increases and oxygen levels drop almost immediately. They change more than she expects, but she realizes after a split second of panic that his numbers must have stabilized some while she was sitting there; they’re not much worse at the moment than they were when she sat.

“Okay,” Cisco says, like he’s waiting for something big, “now take his hand again, and keep watching.”

She does, and when his heart rate immediately slows closer to normal limits and his oxygen levels increase, she sucks in a breath. She repeats the experiment.

The same thing happens.

“What  _ is _ this, Cisco?” she asks, taking Harry’s hand tightly in hers and not letting go.

“Alright,” he starts, winding up as he goes, “so there’s this common thing in a lot of fandoms, right? Like, a  _ lot  _ of fandoms. Sometimes it’s canon, and sometimes just stuff fans make up. Anyway, the heroes usually encounter a plant or a poison or something, and then they have to have sex, or they die.”

Caitlin opens her mouth, then closes it when she realizes she has no clue how to respond to that statement.

Cisco keeps going before she can figure it out. “Not that anyone can really make people have to have sex, but they  _ could _ theoretically mess with stuff that can be fixed by increased levels of dopamine, seratonin, oxytocin…”

“Chemicals the body gives off with prolonged skin-to-skin contact,” Caitlin finishes. She starts searching her mind for ways to prove it, and for ways to fix it. “I’ll run a—”

“Caitlin,” Cisco interrupts, “the fastest way to see if we’re on the right track is just to touch him. More. And then if it works, touch him a  _ lot _ more.” He paces the length of the bed and back. “It makes sense, right? Because even if it’s just skin contact that’s needed, sex would do it faster, and I can just see those damned Tricksters getting a kick out of making the fuck-or-die trope a real thing.”

Caitlin takes a breath. “Would it be a cure or just another temporary solution?”

Cisco slows, thinking it through. “Probably a cure, but worst case, it buys us some time.”

She nods, then considers Harry for a moment. He’s put himself completely in their hands, and she doesn’t want to do anything that he wouldn’t want, were he awake. Cisco’s right, though; this will be the fastest way to test it. She scoots her chair so it’s at the head of his bed. She lets her arm run the length of his, and she scoots down, leaning toward him, until she can press her cheek against his. 

It’s not the most comfortable position she’s been in, but judging by the way Cisco’s eyes light up as he watches the monitors behind her, it’s working. 

“Okay,” he says, a little slower now, like he’s not sure of something, “so if this is working, we’re gonna want a lot more of it to make it work even better.”

Before Caitlin can ask him to clarify what, exactly, he means but seems reluctant to say, Harry groans, the first sound he’s made in hours, and shifts against her cheek.

“Cisco,” she says, feeling a surge of hope, “I think he’s waking up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter takes a big jump back to the more adult bits. The tone also lightens back up for the rest of the fic.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry finds out that he and Caitlin will have to get close.
> 
> REALLY close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mentioned this chapter would be more adult, right? Yeah, that starts right at the beginning.
> 
> Enjoy ;)

 

Some tiny part of Harry, despite the fever, is aware that he’s dreaming, but he doesn’t want it to stop.

He really, really doesn’t want it to stop.

Caitlin strokes his face before her hand trails downward. He feels her lips on his forehead, an echo of earlier, then on his own, and he pulls her close, eager to taste and explore.

She tastes like honey and ice, and he shivers with the sweet intoxication of it.

Caitlin presses against him, her fingers trailing along his neck, down his arm. She links their hands together before straddling him, shifting her weight against him deliciously, and he just barely contains a moan. She captures his lips as if to silence him, and he sets his hands on her hips, pulling her closer, impossibly close, not close enough.

_ Caitlin, _ he tries to groan, but his lips are occupied, so he shifts her against him again, trying to elicit a reaction from her instead. He can almost hear it.

“Cisco, I think he’s waking up.” Her words don’t make sense, but he doesn’t care. He can hear the excitement in her tone, knows she’s not trying to get him to stop.

“Snow…” He finally manages her name, and she squeezes his hand tighter in response.

“I’m here, Harry.” She sounds far too coherent, so he’s clearly not doing a good enough job. He’s ready to try harder, to let his fingers find her clit, when she speaks again. “We need you to wake up.”

Wake up?

_ We? _

“Harry.” That’s Cisco’s voice. What is Cisco doing here?

Harry shuts his eyes, blocking out the sight of Caitlin above him, and counts to three. When he opens them again, the room is completely different.

He’s in a hospital bed, in the lab, and Caitlin next to him is fully dressed and not in the throes of ecstasy. 

Also, there’s Cisco.

Harry takes a second, breathing purposefully, trying to shake the dream and find his bearings. He locks eyes with Caitlin, who is right next to him, smiling encouragingly. She’s so close that he can count the flecks in her irises, and their fingers are laced together, her whole arm running the length of his.

He should ask what’s going on, whether they’ve found anything out, how he’s doing. Instead, he lets a smile tug at his lips.

“Hi,” he whispers.

Her smile goes a little crooked, like she’s happy and worried at once. Behind her, he sees Cisco’s jaw drop briefly.

“Hi, Harry,” she says, gentle, before she adopts a more determined expression that sobers him some. “We were able to find some answers, or at least partial ones.”

Before Harry can focus well enough to respond, Cisco pipes up. “Do you want the good news or bad news first?”

Harry frowns as he considers the question. “Bad news.” He likes the bad news first, because then he knows exactly what he’s dealing with. The good news is rarely as informative.

“You got poisoned,” Cisco explains, a little too animated for the words, in Harry’s opinion, “and if we don’t fix it, you’re gonna die.”

He blinks, taking a moment to let the words process, letting his head tip toward Caitlin. “And the good news?”

Cicso takes a breath. “The good news is, we know exactly how to fix it.”

His mind is still moving sluggishly, not quite making the right connections, so he’s not sure whether he’s missing something or just struggling because of the poison. “Do you know how to fix it?” It’s not until Caitlin’s face brushes against his as she nods that he bothers to wonder why she’s so close. It’s not like he minds. “Okay. Then why haven’t you done it yet?”

Caitlin looks at Cisco, hesitation clear in her expression. “It’s a little more complicated than a simple injection,” she says.

Again, he knows he should ask. 

But she's so close, he ends up wondering instead how much he'd have to tilt his head to kiss her. 

Cisco mutters something about side effects, and Harry makes an effort to break his attention away from Snow and pull it toward Cisco. 

Cisco takes his opportunity to speak. “Okay, so, basically, you need skin contact. A  _ lot _ of skin contact if you want to get actually better instead of just sort of coherent. As in, to get past whatever is causing this for real, you should probably be completely naked while you cuddle with someone.” 

Harry is silent as he processes the information. He glances at Caitlin, who is blinking at Cisco.

“ _ Completely _ naked?” Caitlin clarifies, and Harry is fascinated by the pink that touches her cheeks.

“Uh, yeah. For at least a few hours.” Cisco shifts uncomfortably, and his voice is high when he continues speaking. “Did I not mention that part?”

“No.” Caitlin seems to have gotten herself under control. “Anything else you failed to mention?”

“Well, I mean, it’s still guesswork at this point, right?” Cisco starts pacing. “We know the skin contact is helping some, but as to anything else…”

“Cisco…” Caitlin’s tone is almost threatening.

“Fine,” Cisco huffs. “If this really is from a poison designed to force two people to, you know, have sex, then that’s probably the fastest way to fix everything. Not strictly necessary, but if we’re aiming for surges in the hormones that’ll counteract it, then… Yeah.”

He and Caitlin both turn to look at him, and Harry realizes he should probably be reacting, somehow, to all of this.

“Who am I…” Harry shakes his head, trying to collect his thoughts, focusing on the pressure in Caitlin’s grip. “I’m supposed to be naked with someone?” He can’t help the way his eyes are drawn back to Caitlin.

“I can…” Caitlin’s voice is quiet, barely audible, and she clears her throat. “I mean,” she continues in a more normal tone of voice, looking resolutely at their joined hands and not at either his or Cisco’s face, “if you didn’t have anyone else in mind, I could do it.”

Cisco sighs, his relief obvious. “Okay, good. I thought I was gonna have to offer.” He holds up his hands, facing Harry. “No offence, man, just… If I’m cuddling with anyone, it’s Gypsy, alright?” His face lights up with excited mischief. “Although, if you don’t want Caitlin, I’m reasonably sure Dibny would take one for the team.”

“No.” Harry’s voice is level, unimpressed. Really, it’s impressive he manages the dismissive tone so well when he’s so sick right now.

“Are you sure?” Cisco’s definitely pulling his chain. “Because I can always ask—”

“No,” Harry repeats, more emphatically this time, before turning to Caitlin and summoning all his brain power. His next words are important, no matter how impaired he is. “Are you really okay with this?”

Her eyes dart to Cisco, who turns to one of the computers, suddenly finding something on the screen very interesting. 

Caitlin’s a little pink again, but she meets Harry’s eyes, and she’s still so close that he can feel the gentle wash of her breath over his skin. “I’m okay with it if you are.” A smile plays at her lips, and she takes a breath. “After all, there are worse things we could have to do.” She adopts a more serious expression. “I’m only agreeing to the naked cuddling, though, not the sex, for now.”

_ For now? _

He nods, not quite able to form words. 

For all Cisco’s appearance of giving them privacy, he seems to have been listening in; he joins them again.

“Alright, well, while you two…” The younger man trails off, clearly uncomfortable now. “I’m gonna go to a different lab and run with this theory, see what I can confirm. I won’t come back in without knocking.”

Harry is fairly certain he’s never been more glad that this particular little lab actually has walls instead of glass.

“Okay, Cisco,” Caitlin replies. “I’ll keep my cell phone in reach, in case we need to get in touch.”

Cisco nods, then starts for the door. “Oh, one more thing,” he adds before he leaves the room. “I’m guessing touch feels a hell of a lot better than it normally would right now, just from the fact it offsets what’s causing the problem, if nothing else.” Cisco looks between them, then nods and practically flees the room.

Caitlin looks over at Harry, her expression unsteady, like she’s not sure whether to be nervous or professional, and it finally strikes him:

He’s about to be completely naked with Caitlin Snow, with the goal of sharing as much skin contact as possible, and yes, her touch  _ has  _ felt fantastic, not that he’d thought to blame the poison.

Harry is so very screwed.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caitlin tries to get herself and Harry undressed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The sexual tension isn’t nearly high enough. What can we do to fix this, hmmm…

 

Caitlin carefully thinks through what she’s about to do.

She also carefully avoids thinking of the many potential complications and implications of what she’s about to do.

She shouldn’t have agreed to this. It’s not that she doesn’t want to do it, not that she doesn’t like the idea of having so much of her skin pressed up against so much of Harry’s.

It’s that she likes it a little too much. The way he moaned her name when he was waking up is seared permanently into her memory. That’s the only excuse she has for her little slip, her “for now” when telling him not to expect sex.

She is so very screwed, and not in the fun way.

Well, probably not in the fun way.

_ Focus, Caitlin. You’re a grown woman. _

She takes a deep breath and pulls on her metaphorical lab coat, shifting firmly into professionalism. She can do this. She’s a doctor, and it’s not like she gets inappropriate thoughts about her patients.

Caitlin resolutely ignores the part of herself that reminds her that doctors don’t treat loved ones because they can’t stay objective. She can’t spare a moment to think about why that’s relevant.

“We’ll take off your clothes first,” she says, matter-of-fact, not at all flustered by the way Harry is watching her, so close, as if every word she says is worth hanging onto. They’re going to be closer very soon. “That way I can help without being already naked.”

Her cheeks are not at all warm. They’re not. Really.

At Harry’s nod, Caitlin lets go of his hand, for the first time since they figured out touch had an impact. The difference in his vitals is immediately apparent, and his eyes flutter shut.

“Harry,” she says, taking hold of him again. She waits until he looks at her to continue. “I need you to talk to me while we do this, let me know you’re okay. I’ll touch you as much as I can, but I don’t want you unconscious again, if we can help it.”

“Anything for you, Snow.” His voice is rough, his eyes intent on hers, and she squeezes his hand before letting go again. “I’m glad you’re here with me,” he says as she starts pulling up his shirt. Her fingers trace across his abs, and he sucks in a breath, but his eyes get a little clearer, and he’s able to shift his weight enough to let her pull the cloth over his shoulders and head. “I can’t imagine what it would be like if I were here with anyone else.”

Caitlin swallows, more at the sincerity behind the words than at the sight of him shirtless. She already knew, at least, how good he looks without a shirt. “I’m glad I can be here to help.” She takes off his shoes and socks, setting them to the side. “Keep talking, Harry,” she reminds him, resting a hand on his ankle to help.

“You’re brilliant, Snow. Caitlin. Doctor Caitlin Snow.” He pauses when she stands beside him, her fingers hovering over the fastenings for his pants. At her beseeching look, he continues, watching her under heavy eyelids. “You’re so good at what you do, and you care about people.” She unfastens the pants and slides down the zipper, not entirely sure why she can’t break eye contact. “You take good care of me. This isn’t the first time.”

Another deep breath lets Caitlin feel like she might not catch fire. She uses the moment to tug the pants down, speaking to distract them both while she does it. “You don’t have to compliment me the whole time you’re talking, Harry.”

He’s in just his boxers, and his eyes are still focused on her. She takes his hand again, waiting for a response.

“Does it bother you?” he asks finally.

Caitlin tilts her head, thinking for a moment before realizing she has no real hesitation in her answer. “No.”

“Then I’ll keep saying what I’m thinking,” he responds simply, and Caitlin’s breath hitches. 

She can’t quite bring herself to finish stripping him in this moment. She breaks eye contact, finally, and glances around the room, eyes landing on a blanket over the back of the couch. She goes and retrieves it, away from Harry as short a time as possible. His eyes are closed by the time she gets back to him, and she quickly drapes the blanket over his body before cupping his cheek.

“You’ll be warmer this way,” she tells him. He drags his eyes open.

Despite everything, there’s a hint of humor in Harry’s expression. “Whatever you need to tell yourself, Snow.”

Alright,  _ now _ her cheeks are definitely warm. Hot, maybe.

“I’ll change as quickly as I can,” she says in an exhale, “but I’ll need both my hands. Keep talking.”

“I think,” he says, quietly enough that she leans in closer, “I might need another kiss first, just to get me through.”

Caitlin should never have kissed him, not even on the forehead. It’s been much too hard not to do it again, and now that he’s asking?

She doesn’t have far to go before she can press her lips to his forehead, and she does, letting her lips linger against his skin for longer than she probably needs. When she pulls back, he’s wearing a soft smile and watching her, his eyes shining. 

“I need you to be okay for a few minutes,” she tells him, focusing on the words rather than the fluttering in her heart and in her stomach. “And—”

“Keep talking,” he finishes for her. “I know, Caitlin.”

“Well as long as you know,” she says, light, before pulling away. He shuts his eyes as soon as she breaks contact, but this time, she’s not sure it’s unintentional. He might be trying to give her privacy, which, given what they’re about to do, is beyond sweet.

Caitlin is doing her best to disrobe as quickly as possible, so she’s taking off her shirt when Harry starts following through on speaking as instructed.

“You’re not only brilliant. You’re also stunning, but you have to know that.” A pause, and Caitlin tosses her shirt with the other discarded clothes before taking off her necklace. “If you don’t know you’re both of those things, it’s truly a tragedy.” She’s not sure whether he hears the zipper of her skirt or whether he’s fighting to stay awake, but Harry swallows visibly before he keeps going. “People aren’t supposed to be both brilliant  _ and _ gorgeous, Snow. It’s unfair to the rest. Myself excluded, of course, since I’m similarly gifted in both areas.”

Caitlin is surprised by the huff of laughter that escapes her as she rests her skirt atop the rest of the clothing. She’s less surprised by the proud smile Harry’s wearing. She slips off her shoes and then stands by his side again, wearing just an ice blue thong and matching bra.

She will never admit to the fleeting thought of Harry that helped lead her to these particular underthings today.

Caitlin slips her hand under the sheet, skimming her fingers along Harry’s arm. “I’m going to take off your boxers, and then I’ll join you under the sheet,” she explains. “My underwear is small enough that it shouldn’t make a difference, and I’ll take off the bra once I’m with you.” She takes a breath, waiting for his nod. “The bed isn’t big enough for us to lie side by side, so I’ll have to be on top of you. Is that alright?”

Harry swallows twice before talking this time. “The brilliant and gorgeous Dr. Snow is going to be on top of me with only a small pair of women’s underwear between us?” he says flatly. “However will I manage.”

“Harry.” She tries to make her voice sound stern since she does want a real answer to her question, but she’s pretty sure she fails; grinning at his antics makes it hard to sound serious.

He rewords his answer anyway. “Yes, Caitlin. That’s alright.” He clears his throat. “And you told me you were okay with this, so unless you tell me otherwise, I’ll trust that’s still accurate.”

Caitlin lets her actions answer. She lets go of his hand and reaches further under the blanket, gripping his elastic band and pulling downward, grateful when, whether from increased contact or extreme determination, Harry is able to move enough to help her rid him of the last piece of clothing. She tosses it aside, not wanting to drop skin contact long enough to put them properly with the rest of the clothes, then looks back at his face.

As if sensing her eyes on him, he opens his. His gaze fixes on her face for a long moment before straying downward, and he stops breathing for just long enough that she’s ready to worry. His eyes flick back to hers, and he resumes breathing.

Caitlin can’t help it; she smirks.

Then, because she really can be a professional, she climbs under the covers, carefully straddling him without looking too closely, and lays her mostly naked body flush against his  _ entirely _ naked one.

His relieved moan is nearly her undoing.

They both freeze, and Caitlin makes sure her breathing is under control before she tries to reach back to undo her bra. The problem, she quickly realizes, is that while she can certainly undo the rear clasp while lying on her stomach under normal conditions, because of how she’s positioned, doing so now would mean additional pressure and friction directly under her hips.

And at the moment, what’s directly under her hips is  _ Harry’s _ corresponding pelvic region.

“Harry,” she ventures, far too aware of the fact that her lips brush against his collarbone as she speaks, “I need some help undoing my bra. Are you up for it?” She immediately chastises herself for her poor word choice.

“I think so,” he says, and she’s grateful that he ignores any unintentional innuendo. Instead, he sets his hands on her bare waist.

His hands are warm, and after a moment, his touch gains confidence and strength, and alright, screw being professional, Caitlin’s just aiming not to jump the man who was half-unconscious a few minutes ago. Harry slides his hands around to her back without breaking contact, trailing along her spine until he reaches her bra strap.

Caitlin’s breath sounds much too loud to her own ears.

He undoes the clasp with little effort, letting the separated strap fall to either side.

Her heart is pounding against his chest.

Caitlin takes just the slightest bit of weight off her chest so she can slide the bra out, freeing one arm, then the other, the resting back against him. Harry’s hands are still on her back, though he doesn’t seem entirely certain of their placement. With a deliberate exhale, Caitlin turns her head to the side, resting her cheek against his upper chest, the top of her head nestled under his chin. Harry seems to take that as the signal she means it to be, and he settles his hands more comfortably, resting one on her upper back and one lower, his pinky just barely brushing the top of her thong.

She refuses to think about where else they’re touching at the moment, but what she does allow herself is nearly overwhelming on its own. He’s warm, and he smells good, and she cannot remember the last time she had this much skin contact with anyone.

It’s too much and not enough all at once.

Caitlin focuses on her breath, on her hands on his shoulders, until she thinks she has herself mostly under control.

That, of course, is when Harry decides to break the silence: “Now what?”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No sex yet, sorry. They’re going to try to ignore their attraction and talk here.
> 
> Ha!
> 
> Apologies for the wait. Life and all that.
> 
> Almost the entire chapter is some level of adult. NSFW.

 

Harry is reasonably certain he’s never felt this good in his life. Oh, he’s still dimly aware of his headache, of his eyes protesting the little bit of light reaching them.

Everywhere Caitlin’s skin touches his, though, is humming in ecstasy.

He’s going to do something stupid, he knows it, so he distracts himself by trying to make conversation: “Now what?”

Harry sighs. He might be feeling better and thinking clearer than he has been since this all started, but that question wasn’t even remotely close to eloquent. He hoped he would be a little better at talking with Snow pressed up against him, tucked perfectly under his chin, but apparently not. 

“We talk, I think,” Caitlin says, and he feels the words resonate against his skin. She shifts, and her nipples brush noticeably against his chest.

Oh god. 

He jams his eyes shut, trying to keep his instinctive reaction under control. She will feel it if he gives in, if he lets himself revel in the humming electricity coursing through him at her touch, if he lets himself remember how she looks in that tiny scrap of lace that passes as underwear, lets himself think about her chest pressed up against his, her lips grazing his skin--

“Shit,” he mutters, and he feels her breathing pause. 

“Is this too much?” Her voice is smaller than it usually is with him, and he hates himself for a moment for causing her any uncertainty. “I know it's necessary, but we could find someone else, or I could get you a sedative if you're in pain--” 

“No,” he manages, holding her closer, fighting a gasp at the pleasure of her cooler skin under his hands. For the first time, he realizes his hand is brushing against lace. He swallows, knowing he needs to continue. She needs to understand what his problem is. “I don't want anyone else, Snow. Just you. And I don't hurt right now.” He takes a deep breath. “You feel utterly amazing and I'm trying to avoid reacting like a teenage boy with a naked woman in his arms.” Whether he's still a little loopy or just wants to make sure she really does understand, he's not sure, but he clarifies, “With  _ you _ naked in my arms.”

“Oh.” The tiny word is an exhale of relief, and it feels like she's considering what he's said when she's quiet for a few long seconds. “It's a normal reaction,” she says finally, “even without a poison trying to enhance the sensation. I won't be upset if you… react to having a naked woman against you.”

“To having  _ you  _ against me,” he blurts, mentally chastising himself for insisting on the distinction when he doesn't know how she feels about him. 

It's quiet for long enough that he starts fishing for something else to say. 

Caitlin gets there first. “It makes a difference that it's you,” she says quietly. “I wouldn't have kissed anyone else in the situation.”

Oh.  _ Oh.  _

He is a genius, after all, and he pieces together her careful admission with how she acts around him, with the kiss, the closeness, the late nights. He strokes the soft skin along her spine almost reverently, and she shivers against him before he returns his hand to its previous position. 

Somehow, knowing she is similarly affected by their closeness and its possibilities helps him concentrate. Either that or the skin contact is helping. He suspects it's a little of both. 

“We talk every night,” he says, ignoring the fact that his voice is rougher than usual; if she says she's okay with an accidental erection, she's unlikely to object to some emotion in his voice. “This doesn't have to be any different just because we don’t have any physical barriers between us.”

“We're adults,” she agrees. “We can wait until you're feeling better to act on… anything.”

_ Breathe, Harrison. Do not think about acting on anything right now.  _

“Right.” He continues before he can get distracted, latching onto the first subject that comes to mind. “Killer Frost.”

“What about her?” 

Harry could kick himself at the hurt in her voice. “You two seem like you're getting along better,” he says. “You're less upset when you wake up, and she's been more likely to remember what's going on.”

A beat while she considers, and it takes an embarrassing amount of concentration to keep his mind from wandering.

“You're always there when I wake up,” she says finally. “It makes it harder to be afraid, harder to resent her for what I'm missing.”

“Caitlin…” He's not sure whether it's fair, bringing this up when she can't get away from the conversation. “I think the wall between you, what makes you separate people, was caused by fear and anger. The more you learn to trust each other, the more you should recombine, so to speak, becoming just one person. You, but with access to powers.”

“I don't like some of the things she does.” Her voice is quiet, like she's almost talking to herself. “I don't know if I'm ready for her to be me.”

“Nobody likes everything about themselves, Snow.” He pauses, deciding to lighten the mood he'd inadvertently tanked. “Well, unless you're perfect, like I am.”

Her startled laughter makes him smile. It also shifts her body slightly, and everywhere their skin touches feels like it's alight with fire. 

“It's true,” she says lightly. “Not all of us can be you, Harry.”

“I know,” he says, aiming for an even tone. “I am the ideal toward which everybody strives.” 

Caitlin chuckles, and his grip on her tightens reflexively. His body is definitely responding, but not enough that she should be able to tell, he hopes. 

“Even Cisco?” she asks. 

“Especially Cisco,” he responds, emphatic, and she laughs once more. He manages to turn his moan into something resembling a contented hum. He thinks. 

She squeezes his shoulders affectionately, and his control slips a little further. He casts about for another topic. 

“Did you ever guess we'd be here?”  _ Damn it, Harry, not this topic.  _ Well, in for a penny… “Naked, you on top of me, trying not to think about the fact that we're naked with you on top of me?”

She stills, and he has a moment to wonder whether he went too far, misunderstood the situation, should have continued ignoring it. 

“I've thought about it,” she admits, and it's his turn to still. “Not the  _ having  _ to part, but being with you.”

“Yeah?” he prompts carefully. If she's willing to share, he  _ really  _ wants to hear it, but he's not trying to pressure her. 

Caitlin nods against him. “Sometimes at night, when I'm too tired to fight it, I let myself picture it: you talking in that voice you get while you touch every inch of exposed skin.”

Harry swallows hard and fights the urge to shift. He's definitely lost any battle to control his erection, following that admission, and if she hasn't noticed it yet, it'll be painfully obvious if either of them moves. 

“Is that right.” He has to clear his throat before he can keep speaking after the not-quite-question. He isn't sure whether he wants her to stop or needs her to continue. Probably the former if this isn't going anywhere at the moment… Right? “Do you think about anything else?” 

So much for stopping. 

She holds her breath, then exhales, like she's fighting the same battle he is. 

“I think about you talking to me in that voice you're using right now, while you…” She hesitates, either not sure of what to say or not sure she should say it. It gives him a moment to prepare. “While you lick me until I scream.”

Shit.

His hips tilt upward of their own accord, the hand against her lower back keeping her close. His erection slides almost painfully against her, brushing delicate lace and soft skin, the surge of pleasure nearly too much for him to handle. She gasps, and it makes him soar at the same time as it helps ground him. 

“Damn it,” he says, forcing himself to relax both hips and grip. “I'm sorry, Caitlin.”

“I'm not,” she says, though she seems to be trying to keep herself still. “Except that I should've told you how I feel days ago, weeks. Sometime when we could act on it instead of when you're poisoned.” She goes a bit rigid. “This isn't just from the poison, is it?”

“No, it's not.” He lets himself hesitate for only a moment before he slides one hand lower, until he's cupping her exposed ass. “I've dreamt of this, Snow, for much too long.”

She relaxes, which has the effect of pressing more of her against him, and they both catch on moans. 

“We should probably talk about something else,” she says, “until you're feeling better.”

“Probably,” he agrees, but even through her underwear he can feel her heat against him, and try as he might, he can't think about anything but how much better it would feel for both of them with that little scrap of lace gone. “Or…” 

“Or what?” She sounds a little breathless, and it helps him make up his mind. 

“Or we can talk about that other option Cisco gave us.” He holds his breath and waits for a response, hoping again that he isn't pushing too far, too fast.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler: They talk about that other option next chapter. They talk about it a lot.
> 
> Sorry for another cliffie, but hopefully less wait before next chapter.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Caitlin talk. They're very, very close as they talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's forecast includes…
> 
> No sex. But next chapter, I promise! They have some things to work through first.

 

Caitlin is still reeling a bit from how bold she's been, her cheeks so warm after her explicit commentary about her imaginings, as true as it was. But there's part of her that worries she's pushing, that she made a bad call. 

He isn't entirely in his right mind. What if he's wrong about wanting this outside of the poison?

But he's deliciously hard against her, and thanks to his suggestion, she's now thinking about the fact that he'll probably get better even faster if they just give in. That can only be a good thing, right? 

It's not a good thing, though, if he doesn't actually want her when he's in his right mind. She feels more than a little silly second guessing herself now, after finally managing to express her feelings. The physical aspect of them, at least. 

It's the rest that would crush her if she messes things up right now. If she didn't have him in her life anymore as a friend and confidant, she doesn't know what she would do. 

Still, he seems completely coherent and lucid, if a bit sensitive to touch. It won't hurt to discuss it. 

And maybe talking will keep her from grinding against him like she wants to do with almost every fiber of her being. 

“Okay,” she says aloud. “Let's talk about it.”

Harry's hands tighten on her bare back. “I'd like to try it,” he says, voice catching despite the attempt at levity in his tone. “For science, of course.”

Caitlin laughs at that, then cuts off with a groan; somehow, they've gotten lined up perfectly, and every move rubs his length along her clit. 

“What are your reservations?” he asks, only the slightest hitch in his breath. 

Of course he’s concerned with  _ her _ reservations. She's the one who should be making sure he's okay, and instead it's the other way around. 

Caitlin nibbles on her lip before responding, glad she can't look him in the eye without losing some skin contact. “I worry that you don't actually want me when you're in your right mind, and you'll regret it when you're better.” She can feel his muscles move as he works through his answer, opening and closing his mouth more than once. 

Finally, he speaks. “You know I find you brilliant, whether I'm impaired or not.” He waits for her to nod, which she does; she knows. “I know you're smart enough to have picked up on the signs that I like you, if you were looking.”

“I'm not always good at that,” she admits. “Humor me? What tells me you already like me?” She has to know he really means this, that he’s really himself enough to make this call.

“Besides the fact that I spend much of my spare time with you, in addition to my research time and time on Team Flash,” he says, sounding fondly exasperated, “so clearly I enjoy your company, at minimum.”

Caitlin breathes. “That much I know, yes. I'm quite fond of you, too.”

“It took me a while,” he says, “but I did figure that out.” A hand starts skimming idly up and down her back, and her breath catches. “Alright, so I don't need to convince you I like you as a person, just as a romantic interest. How about the fact that I willingly share that sofa with you every night? I don't do that with Cisco.”

“That's true,” she says carefully. 

“But it's not enough.” His hand slows, then resumes, fingers moving higher on the upstroke, down to her panty line on the way back. She fights a shiver. “I can't think of anything else obvious. But I can tell you times I thought about it. I can tell you that you weren't the only one with fantasies. I can tell you that sometimes I can't help but to be pulled into your orbit, to want to be as physically present as possible. I can tell you that earlier, when I said ‘you got it,’ it took all of my considerable willpower to keep from kissing you in full view of the team. And I can tell you that if I go down on you, Caitlin, you will be far too breathless to scream.”

She's having a lot of trouble breathing from only the words, so she doesn't have it in her to argue with his last statement. She forces herself to consider the rest of his argument, and while not much of it is actual tangible proof, it does resonate as truth. She's seen his looks, knows he enjoys her company, has wondered, even, whether he might reciprocate her feelings… And he's telling her he does. Again, just the physical ones in addition to friendship, but that's all she's admitted to, herself. 

His hand is still tracing up and down her back, and his fingers slip just the slightest bit into her waistband on the next pass. He's still warm but feeling less feverish, just wonderfully hot rather than dangerously so, and she aches to remove the last barrier between them. 

Before she can respond, her phone chirps. They both start, and she reaches for the phone as soon as she recovers, staying low and in contact, pulling the phone close to read it. 

“It's a text from Cisco,” she tells Harry. She scans it, feeling her cheeks heat despite all they've already discussed. 

“What's he say?” 

It'll be easiest to just read it verbatim, Caitlin decides, not quite trusting herself to paraphrase. “He says, ‘Okay, confirmed. Contact will help, I'd say three hours if it's full body, and then Harry should be cured. Obviously it would be a lot faster if there was sex involved, but you and Harry? Not gonna happen, even if it would cut it to like twenty minutes. So since we're looking at a few hours, I'm gonna get some shut eye while we wait. Text if something comes up.’” She huffs when her phone chimes again. “‘Pretend I picked better wording for that last sentence. I do NOT want to know if anything like that comes up. You know what I mean.’”

“Hmm.” Harry sounds thoughtful as Caitlin sets her phone back down. “Twenty minutes, huh?” 

“You're not in pain anymore, right?” Caitlin asks. Any lingering hesitation, she could probably set aside if he genuinely needs sex right now. He's almost convinced her. 

“I'm not in pain,” he answers, shifting experimentally. Her eyes flutter shut at the movement, but she still hears the rest of his words. “I still don't feel quite right, but it's discomfort at worst.”

While that still makes her want to help any way she can, she is able to relax knowing that if they do this, there's no obligation on her part. He's okay, physically and mentally, if they don't. 

But she really wants to, and judging by his persistent erection, still temptingly hard even with his concentration on evaluating his condition, he wants to as well. 

“You're still worried,” he says. “What is it?” 

“What would this be?” she asks, not realizing her concern until she voices it. “Would this be a one-time thing between friends who find each other attractive? Would it be more?” 

She can't bear the thought that it might be less. 

“You are my favorite person on this earth, Caitlin.” His voice is ridiculously sincere, and she closes her eyes to focus. “I admire your intellect, envy your compassion, and crave your smile and sense of humor. I adore every part of you, Snow. Sex would be an extension of that, nothing more and certainly nothing less, for as long and as often as you'd like.” He gives her a moment, and when she doesn't immediately speak, he adds, “Often, I hope. I'm pretty sure it'll be as amazing as we are.”

She's his favorite person here, and he wants to sleep with her. A lot. It isn't a declaration of love, but it comes close, and it echoes the way she feels about him. 

“Okay,” she says, pretty sure she's agreeing to a lot more than sex. 

Harry stills for a moment, then moves both hands to her hips, pulling her carefully against him. “Okay?” 

“Yes,” she replies, tilting her hips deliberately against him, biting back a grin at the way he curses under his breath. 

It could be a lot of fun to be his undoing. 

“I'd like to kiss you, before this goes further,” he says, less sure than she's used to hearing. After he clears his throat, he sounds more himself. “Make me feel a bit less like a prostitute, no kissing allowed and all that.”

“Did you just reference Pretty Woman right now?” She restrains her laughter, even knowing he can feel her smile against his skin. She impulsively presses a kiss to the skin she's been touching, and he hums contentedly. 

“Perhaps,” he says, light, before he gets more serious. “I know you're trying to keep as much contact as possible, and we can stay close.” He rocks her against him, and heck, Caitlin hasn't felt anything this good since Ronnie. 

And he isn't even inside her yet.

“But I think,” Harry continues, “you can lift far enough that we can kiss properly. That'll be about the same, and we have a lot more planned.”

Caitlin does her best to think it through. He's right; at worst, it might cause him momentary discomfort for a second, but once they're actually kissing, it should even out. Once orgasms are in the mix, well, then that'll be even better for him. 

She lifts her head from his chest, straightening out from under his chin. She hadn't realized she'd started to get stiff, but the stiffness fades quickly to the background at the heat in Harry's eyes. She's seen hints of this look, sometimes, but she's never seen such unbridled lust before. He's looking at her like he can't imagine anything better. 

She leans down and presses her lips to his. His grip on her hips tightens immediately, and she deepens the kiss in response, opening her mouth and moaning as he plunges his tongue inside her. She tips her hips again, rocking against him, feeling her underwear cling to her slick skin, feeling it catch against his length. 

Harry's hands move up to her waist, then move deliberately downward again, back to her hips, this time with his fingers slipping firmly underneath the lace. 

“If we're doing this,” Harry murmurs between kisses, “and I really hope we're doing this…” They rock together again, and Caitlin is pretty sure some people would already count what they're doing as sex. “Then I think it's time for the underwear to come off.”

Caitlin isn't afraid anymore, doesn't have any other reservations in the moment. She tilts her head so her nose is alongside his but she has enough room to catch her breath and speak, and she lifts her hips slightly, letting her lower legs run along his to make up for the shift in contact. 

Her invitation is clear, she thinks, but just in case… 

“What are you waiting for?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! Don't kill me. Sex finally, next chapter.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ..... Sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting from the airport, excuse typos.
> 
> I mentioned there’s sex this chapter, right?
> 
> NSFW. Also bumped the rating up to Explicit cause this got away from me.

****

Harry is conflicted.

Not about the imminent sex; their conversation did much to convince the both of them that they really want this. It’s not just the various forms of physical relief he’s looking forward to, not in the slightest.

But therein lies his conundrum.

His body is screaming for release, his skin still sending shocks through him at the slightest touch, and he doesn’t think he’s ever wanted a quick finish so much in his life. Yet, this is  _ Caitlin _ he’s about to have sex with, and every coherent part of him wants to savor this, to take his time, to make sure that she wants this as often as he does.

Minus the poison, of course.

Instead of acting on anything, though, he’s here, caught up in his own mind, his hands under the waistband of Caitlin’s lacy underwear, completely still.

“Harry?”

Caitlin looks a little uncertain at his hesitation, and he flexes his fingers against her skin, holding her against him as firmly as he can without worrying about hurting her. He tilts his head up for another kiss, not realizing until they make contact that his brain fog has tried to settle in again. That makes him feel a little better about his indecision, but in the meantime, Caitlin is still wearing one scrap of clothing too many.

The kiss lasts longer than he means it to, and Caitlin’s breath is gratifyingly ragged when they stop.

“Sorry,” he says, clearing his throat when his voice is absurdly rough. Speaking his mind has gone pretty well for him over the past several hours, so he decides to keep doing it. “I was trying to decide whether to go fast so I’m entirely myself again sooner, or slow so I can savor every touch and wring every sensation out of you possible.”

Caitlin’s expression isn’t quite the one she wears in the lab sometimes, when she wants to hide exactly how emotional she is about something, but it’s close, and it fills him with the absurd desire to kiss her until neither of them has enough willpower to hide anything at all.

“You’re hiding something from me,” he says.

She blinks, then rests her head, letting it drop beside his, their cheeks touching. “You don’t have to choose,” she says, “between fast or slow. You said we could do this as often as I’d like. I’ve wanted you for a long time, Harry. I--” Her breathing stills for a moment, and he swears his heart stops at what she might have said. “I care about you, a lot.”

He loves her. There’s no doubt at all in his mind, but he’s not going to force a confession on her or from her if she isn’t ready for that. He all but said it already, anyway, and he’s pretty sure she knows. Still, if he can show her a little, just in case…

Harry lets his hands travel back up along her spine, one coming to rest comfortably at her shoulder blade, the other moving to her cheek. She takes the hint and pulls back far enough that he can see her face. His lips brush hers as he whispers, “I care about you, too, Caitlin. You have no idea how much.” 

Her breath hitches, and then one of them moves. It doesn’t really matter who did, only that their lips are together once more, and their tongues, and the way she’s moving atop him does very little for any remaining self control. With one hand still cupping her face, Harry trails his other back down along her body. It isn’t a familiar path yet, but he has plenty reason to hope it will become very familiar. He savors the stimulating touch, deciding he might try to go slow, especially when she moans quietly into his mouth as his fingers dip into her underwear again. He pulls her against him and rocks up into her, his erection dragging along her still-covered clit, and they both gasp.

Alright, maybe he wants to go a  _ little _ fast. They can save slow for a real bed, later.

With a firm press of his thumb against the part of her hips closest to him, Harry wordlessy requests Caitlin give him a little space. Before he can get distracted again, he slips the underwear off her, or at least down to her knees, exposing her without giving either of them too much space. When she lowers herself again, his eyes close at the sensation, and he swears he sees lightning. He wonders, for a fraction of a moment, whether this ecstasy is how Barry feels in the speed force.

Then he can’t think of anything as she shifts against him, slick and hot where they’re almost joined, a stark contrast to how cool she feels elsewhere, her body temperature a little lower than his ever since she developed abilities. He focuses on kissing her as his head spins with the pleasure of it all. He can figure out later whether it really feels this good because of the poison or just because it’s Caitlin.

It’s tempting, oh so tempting, to just shift their hips and slip inside her; he knows she’s wet enough, can feel it.

God can he feel it.

But he’s going to take a moment here first, even if it kills him. He slows the pace of their kiss, Caitlin following along after the tiniest reluctant whimper. He rocks her against him one more time, getting more movement behind it this time, letting the head of his cock drag across her entrance, gathering lubrication before treating her clit to the same.

The desperation in her voice as she says his name might be the best thing he’s ever heard, and he stops for a moment to breathe through the sheer want.

Harry lets his hands rest at her waist for a second while he tries to gather himself, but it doesn’t help much. He can feel the hard layer of muscle beneath her soft curves, knows much of the muscle comes from the number of missions she’s been joining as Killer Frost. Her alter ego and the continued split in personality is way more than he’s capable of thinking about at the moment, so he pushes the thought aside and drags his touch upward. He lets his thumbs stroke the sensitive skin along her breasts, dipping down far enough as to just barely brush against her nipples.

They’re hard, and she melts further into him, and it’s the first time he’s really wished they could get a little more space between them, so he could explore there a little better. She has a fantastic chest.

Next time.

“Next time,” Caitlin echoes, and he realizes he must have spoken out loud. Her hands move from his shoulders, one to his chest and the other lifting and moving to--

Harry’s head tips backward of its own volition as, in one fluid move, Caitlin grips his erection, lines them up, and takes him inside her. It feels like it’s his first time again, the sensations nearly overwhelming, and he grips her hips tightly to keep her from moving while he regains his equilibrium. She’s saying something about being on birth control and knowing they’re clean, and he’s sure he’ll appreciate her being on top of that, so to speak, once he can do things like breathe again.

In the meantime, his world is nothing but her touch. It’s the feel of her pressed against him from legs to lips. It’s the feel of her fingers, stroking carefully, calmingly, sending sparks along his arms. It’s the feel of her gentle lips working their way along his jaw, down to his neck, giving him the time he needs while making it clear she knows he isn’t trying to stop. It’s the feel of her wet heat surrounding him, walls already fluttering around him sporadically.

She’s almost as close as he is.

Finally, after an immeasurable amount of time, at least from his perspective, he can move again. He pulls back as far as he can, lifting Caitlin off him, but not too far, then sinks back in. He hears a litany of praises from his own mouth as she clenches harder around him, and she grinds against him as her clit makes contact with him, a deliberate little move that makes her gasp. Something like a growl comes from low in his own throat, but Caitlin’s only reaction is to repeat the process: up,  _ down, _ grind, gasp.

Only, the longer it goes, the messier the pace gets, for the both of them, and the more her gasps become sighs and moans and whispers of his name. Every touch is still dizzying, and he and Caitlin are clinging to each other tighter with each thrust, the uneven rhythm almost rough now in its intensity. Harder he drives into her, and she meets every movement with an equal one of her own, and then she’s crying out with wordless pleasure as she breaks apart around him. Harry follows in the next instant, his orgasm blinding and all-encompassing, all-consuming as the world stretches into this infinite moment.

He can’t say how long it takes before he’s aware again, but eventually, he takes note of Caitlin’s breath puffing against his ear.

It wasn’t too long, then, if she’s still a little breathless.

He realizes he’s still gripping her hips much too tightly, and he loosens his grip immediately, running a light touch over the abused area before moving his hands to the relative safety of her back. 

“How are you feeling?” Caitlin asks, lifting herself far enough to see his face. 

He considers it for a moment, schooling his thoughts, ignoring how much he wants to kiss her again already. He’s still inside her, for Christ’s sake. 

“I feel good,” he says finally. “No dizziness, no trouble concentrating.” He waits a beat. “Well, besides the expected amount of trouble, given you’re still naked and warm on top of me.”

Caitlin smiles but then adopts her professional expression. Harry fights a sigh at the questions he knows are coming, but his resignation is accompanied by a rush of affection. She doesn’t disappoint with the questions, asking him about every possible symptom or side effect until she seems mostly satisfied. He knows she won’t be entirely satisfied until she’s seen him be okay on his own and confirmed it with lab tests, but she’s making no move to distance herself.

He’s not going to argue.

“Any regrets?” she asks finally, and when he shakes his head immediately, she beams at him, her eyes flickering to his mouth like she wants to kiss him, though she refrains in favor of another inquiry. “Any questions?”

“Just one,” he says, as serious as he can manage. “How long do we need to wait before we can do that again?”

Caitlin huffs in surprised laughter and relaxes back against his chest. Harry wraps his arms around her as tightly as he dares and decides that, in this moment, life is just about perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay they did it! Ha. Only… 4 to 6 chapters to go? Probably one more adult scene. Is it still a scene if it's an entire chapter? Ah well.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caitlin and Harry joke and converse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Expect updates to be…. when updates are. I am actually *trying* to finish this story by ClaudiaRain’s birthday, though, so hopefully not very long between updates.
> 
> This chapter is... probably not safe for work? Nothing happens, but there are discussions of sex, and they're naked the entire time.

 

After the most pressing of her concerns for Harry have been assuaged, when she's sure he isn't about to die, Caitlin is able to take a moment to bask in it all. 

Contentment is the predominant feeling. She is comfortable in Harry's arms, and she hasn't come so hard in… 

She can't remember the last time she came so hard. It’s been a while. Even with the right fantasies, solo activities just can’t compete with having a partner, the  _ right _ partner.

Harry.

The man himself interrupts her thoughts with a considering hum.

“What is it?” she asks.

“I was just wondering how long we could stay here like this before anyone noticed.” His hands are tracing absent trails up and down her back.

She forces herself to be reasonable and logical. “We probably shouldn’t stay like this for too long. We need to make sure you’re okay without the physical contact.”

Harry sighs, more dramatically than it seems like the situation warrants, and she finds herself smiling against him.

“Fine, Snow,” he says, almost a pout, but his body beneath her still radiates only the same contentment she feels. “Be the responsible one.” His tone brightens. “That means I get to be the one who says we should stay like this for at least another hour.”

Caitlin lifts herself up until she can see him, not bothering to try to hide her smile anymore. He’s looking at her with a straight face, but she can see the mirth in his eyes. “Fifteen minutes,” she offers, picking a number lower than she actually wants, knowing he’ll counter with higher.

He doesn’t disappoint. “Forty-five minutes.”

“Half an hour,” she returns, “but let’s see if we can get more comfortable without leaving the bed.”

“Hmmm. I suppose I can accept those terms.” His hands exert a little more pressure on her back. “Not that I’m not comfortable like this, but I do like to see your face when we talk, believe it or not, and that looks pretty uncomfortable for you.”

She can’t help it, doesn’t try to help it: she leans in to give him a kiss, and that ends up taking more time than she expects.

“That doesn’t count toward our half hour,” Harry insists when they come up for air.

“Harry,” she says, attempting to scold him. She shakes her head, relenting. “I didn’t check the time yet, anyway.” Plus, she doesn’t actually  _ want _ to get out of the bed, as small and uncomfortable as it it. She just thinks they probably should. She’d like to stop worrying about him, and she can’t do that entirely while they lie here.

Caitlin adjusts so she can sit up without hurting either of them. It’s harder than earlier, both of them a little oversensitive after their activities. And also a little sticky. She grabs the sheet they were using to cover up and moves to use the corner to clean them up, but Harry takes it from her and wipes them off with a gentleness that takes her off guard. Her eyes sting for a moment, and she breathes until she doesn’t feel like she might cry. When she can focus again, she finds Harry watching her, concerned.

She tries to explain. “It’s been so long since I felt this happy, Harry. I wasn’t sure I’d ever have this again. Barry and Cisco are good friends, but they have their own stuff, their own priorities, as they should. There hasn’t been anyone to take care of me, unless I was having a meltdown or turning into Killer Frost at a bad time. Not that I  _ need _ to be taken care of,” she feels compelled to add, “but it’s nice.” Her breath catches. “And you’ve been trying to take care of me for a while, haven’t you.” It’s not really a question. “You make sure I’m alright after Killer Frost, even after everyone else leaves.”

It takes Harry a moment to answer, but he doesn’t break eye contact while he thinks. “It’s what I do for the people I care about. You can ask Jesse; sometimes I go a little overboard.”

“A little?” Caitlin has to interrupt, relaxing enough to tease, because of course he’s right. It’s what he does, even if he tries to hide it with some of the team. He hasn’t fooled her in a long time.

Harry continues as if she hasn’t spoken, but she sees his lips twitch like he’s fighting back a smile. “But it’s only because I care. If I ever cross any lines, tell me.” He stops fighting the smile now, grins at her. “Nevermind. I know you’ll tell me.”

She smiles back at him. “I will,” she agrees, remembering other times she’s called him out on his behavior, usually regarding Jesse or Cisco. She takes a few more seconds to bask in it, that she’s found this man she cares about, who cares about her, who is brilliant and sarcastic and funny and ridiculously handsome. Then, with a sigh, she breaks eye contact and straightens further, considering their options for getting more comfortable. She could, technically, keep sitting atop him, especially as he’s showing no signs of discomfort at the lessened contact, but she wants to be closer.

Caitlin reaches down and pulls up the sides of the hospital bed, pretending to ignore Harry’s wandering hands as she leans down against him; she hadn’t felt the need for the safety measure the rails represented, not when Harry was so very still before they figured out the solution. Rails up, she shifts her weight to one knee and tells Harry to turn to his side. He does, and she follows suit, so that they’re facing each other at the center of the bed. He has one hand under his face, and as soon as she’s still, their legs tangled together, his other hand starts skimming along her side like he can’t help but touch her. 

Not that Caitlin really has room to talk, since one of her hands immediately goes to Harry’s still-bare chest. 

She realizes she forgot to check the time and can’t see any clocks from where she is, but she’s too comfortable to be terribly concerned. For a few minutes, they just exist in the same space, and it should be boring, but instead it’s wonderful.

Harry’s the one to break the silence. “You never did answer when I asked when I get to sleep with you again.”

She huffs. “We have to make sure you’re okay first, and then we have to make sure nobody else gets poisoned. Then we’ll see,” she finishes, as if she doesn’t already sort of want to go again.

“That seems reasonable,” he says with a sigh. “I might be able to wait that long.”

“I might, too,” she says, playing along. She doesn’t actually think they’ll jump each other in front of the team. Probably.

“Can I take you to dinner?” Harry sounds more serious this time, and he’s studying her. “After we save Central City again, of course.”

“We’re doing this all out of order, aren’t we,” Caitlin says. “We’ve already slept together and we’ve saved each other’s lives and we haven’t even gone on our first date.”

“Well,” Harry replies, “we can always count that interrupted coffee at Jitters as our first date.”

“It felt like one, at times.” She remembers his reassurances, how they made her feel like maybe she really could handle everything she needed to, just because he thought she was special. 

“I look forward to the next,” he murmurs, and at his lower tone, she realizes his gaze has shifted to her mouth. She leans toward him, almost instinctive.

Only to jump when her phone chimes with a text message.

“That’s probably Cisco,” she says. “I should check that.”

“If you must,” Harry answers, and she presses her lips to his for a moment—actually succeeding in keeping it short this time—before sitting up so she can reach her phone over the rail.

_ Couldn’t sleep, _ Cisco’s written,  _ so I’m seeing if everything’s okay. I would’ve come in person, but I don’t need to see either of you naked if I can help it. _

Caitlin turns the phone so Harry can read it.

“He’s missing out,” Harry says, eyeing her deliberately. “I’m gorgeous naked.”

Caitlin laughs and leans down to kiss him. This one does last longer than she means, and his hands are finding some of her most sensitive spots when they’re interrupted by her phone again.

_ If you don’t answer, I’m gonna have to come in, and none of us want that. _

“Maybe we should just head out to the Cortex and let him see you’re okay,” she suggests. “With clothes on.”

“Do we have to?” There’s that almost pout again.

Caitlin chooses to deliberately misunderstand. “I mean, if you’d rather go out there naked…”

He levels her with what should probably be a withering stare, but him thumb is tracing reverent circles against her hip, which considerably softens the effect. 

“Getting up will let us make sure you’re really alright,” she says.

He exhales. “Fine. But let the record show I voted to stay in bed with you, naked, forever.”

“That would make it hard to take me out to dinner,” Caitlin says, lowering the rail on her side and climbing out of bed, watching Harry carefully for any signs of distress.

He’s his normal self as he shoots back, “Almost forever.” His eyes light up. “Or dinner served in bed, best of both worlds.” He sits for a few seconds and then joins her, standing beside the hospital bed. He keeps one hand on the bed for support as he visibly takes stock of how he’s feeling, then nods before letting go. “What do you say, Snow? Let’s make a go of living in bed with nothing on.”

“We’d make it a week, tops, if we couldn’t get to a lab.” She takes off the couple leads that were still on him and switches off the monitor.

“Are you saying I’m boring?” Harry challenges.

Caitlin raises an eyebrow. “Are you saying you don’t get mean if you go too long without tinkering?”

He tips his head to the side in acknowledgement. “Well… I could probably make it a week.”

She smiles, then forces herself to step back, still watching him. “Just like I said.” When Harry tries to step closer, she holds up a hand for him to wait. “Stay there. How are you feeling, with the distance?”

“I’m fine, Caitlin,” he says, his voice that particular register that makes it hard to keep her thoughts professional. Mercifully, when he continues, his tone is lighter. “I mean, I’m a little dizzy. You should probably come here and give me a kiss.” He pauses. “Maybe two or three.”

She gives him a look. “Don’t joke about that,” she scolds, but she steps close anyway, wrapping her arms around his waist and leaning up to kiss him. He pulls her closer, and they definitely kiss more than two or three times before they’re both ready to get dressed and face the rest of the world.

That happiness doesn’t leave, not through any of it, and Caitlin thinks that maybe, for once, the universe is tipping things in her favor.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life, okay? This chapter is a little short but a lot of fun. Just two left after this!

Harry loves this woman. That’s all he can think as they get dressed and start toward the Cortex. He loves her, and while maybe he didn’t allow himself to think of it consciously before today (yesterday? It’s late, or early), it’s not a surprise; it’s grown steadily over time and became just another fact of his existence. His mind clearer now, he recognizes that his lack of reaction, when silently acknowledging his love with her on top of him earlier, wasn’t quite normal. In the moment, though, it was simple: Harrison Wells loves Caitlin Snow, just as surely as his eyes are blue and sometimes require corrective lenses. It wasn’t anything new, ergo, it wasn’t anything to worry about.

Not that he’ll tell her he loves her yet. That was a good call he made, he thinks. She isn’t ready, even if he suspects—even if he  _ thinks _ —that she might feel the same. It’s hard to remember, though, that this is brand new, technically, even if they’ve been close for a long time.

(Later, looking back, he blames his preoccupation with  _ love _ for the fact that he doesn’t realize exactly what’s about to happen.)

“Are you feeling alright?” Caitlin asks, coming to a stop just outside the Cortex. 

“Hmm?” He scrambles to make sense of her question, but it takes longer than it should when she starts smiling at him. “Oh! You mean because—”

“Because you were poisoned and could have died, and I want to make sure you’re feeling okay?” Her smile is bigger now, and it takes all his willpower not to just drag her back to where they can have some privacy for as long as they can manage.

“Right. That.” He clears his throat. “Yes, I feel good, Caitlin. Like myself, only… a good deal less stressed than I’ve been in several years.”

She nibbles her lip and steps closer to him, but before she can say or do anything (and he really wants to know what she was going to say or do), a familiar voice calls out from the Cortex.

“Hello? Someone out there?” Cisco asks.

Caitlin sighs, and Harry smothers a grin before following her into the other room. Cisco’s at his computer station, and Dibny is sitting in a chair off to one side, tossing a paperweight up and down, his hand molding grotesquely to the object each time he catches it.

It’s fascinating and disturbing at once. 

“Harry!” Cisco greets, relieved and excited. “You’re cured!” Dibny stands, and Harry feels a sudden sense of horror for which he can’t find a source. At least, not until Cisco glances at the nearest clock. “You’re… It hasn’t been long enough!” Worried now, Cisco looks at Caitlin. “I told you he needed hours. The only way he would be okay this fast is if you had sex, and there’s just no—” He cuts off abruptly, mouth still open.

Harry closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to watch the other man figure it out. Caitlin Snow, traitor that she is,  _ snickers _ while any hope for privacy they had crumbles at their feet. He opens his eyes to level a withering look in her direction, but she smiles, and he practically melts.

He should probably get ahold of himself, or there’s going to be even more ammo to use against him.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Ralph’s decided to join in. Fantastic. “Are you saying they had sex?!?”

It’s not that Harry needed to keep it a secret, really. It’s just that the more people who know…

“Wait, what?” Iris comes into the room, quickly assessing the situation. She’s on the phone. “Hold on, Barry,” she says into the speaker before looking at Cisco. “ _ Who _ had sex?”

...the less chance there is that they’ll get any privacy.

Detective West enters then, because of course he does. 

“Why do we care who’s having sex?” Joe asks, then sees Iris on the phone. “Is that Barry? Odd time for a phone call.”

“It is Barry,” Iris answers, “and I think Harry and Caitlin had sex.” Her eyes light up as she responds to whatever Barry’s said on the other end. “I  _ know, _ right?”

Harry’s had too much happiness over the past hour or so. That’s it. The universe is trying to make up for it, and he’s never getting privacy ever again.

He looks at the present team members, at Iris gossipping quietly with Barry, at Joe smirking at Harry (West’s a traitor too, clearly), at Cisco still standing with his mouth open, and at Dibny, who’s looking around like he’s wondering—

“So what poison do I need to be exposed to for this to happen?” Ralph asks casually.

Harry makes a conscious decision to join everyone else in ignoring him.

Cisco finally finds his voice. “You know you didn’t  _ have _ to have sex, right? I was clear on that point, wasn’t I?”

“Yes, Cisco,” Caitlin answers, “you were clear.”

“Good,” Cisco says, releasing a breath. “That’s not something I’d want someone to feel like they had to do. But if you didn’t have to, then  _ why?” _

Harry feels his ire winning its battle with amusement and detachment. But then Caitlin slips her hand into his, and he decides that his earlier determination to get ahold of himself was entirely useless, and not very productive, anyway. He’ll take this feeling instead of rationality, any day.

“Maybe we wanted to,” Caitlin says, and Harry squeezes her hand.

Ralph is the first to speak. “Is he as good as he looks like he’d be?”

“Ralph!” Iris scolds, though she shoots Caitlin a glance that says maybe she’ll be asking the same thing later, once she gets Snow alone. “Sorry, everyone, I’m gonna go finish this call with Barry.” She leaves the Cortex, and after an amused snort, Joe follows.

“I know it was my idea,” Cisco says, “but are we sure it worked? We need to run some tests, see whether—”

“Okay,” Dibny interrupts, “if we’re done with the sex talk and moving onto science, I’m gonna go find somewhere not here. See you later!” he says, cheerily, then leaves with a jaunty wave that stretches behind him for several seconds.

Caitlin answers Cisco’s question, then the next one, all biological stuff that’s really more her field than Cisco’s, anyway. They plan to run a battery of tests once it’s properly morning, or sooner if he starts feeling worse again. When Cisco stops ignoring Harry, looking directly at him instead, he knows he’s in trouble.

“So, as far as whether you’re still feeling the effects, has the poison left you with any lingering increase in, you know… sex drive?”

“No,” Harry answers reflexively with a sigh before pausing. He realizes his eyes are on Caitlin, and he drags his attention back to Cisco with some difficulty, frowning. “Maybe. It’s hard to tell.” Another beat, this one deliberate. “It’s entirely possible that now that I’ve had sex with Caitlin, I will  _ always _ want sex with Caitlin. A lot.”

It’s actually probably true, he’ll admit to himself, but even if it weren’t, Cisco’s reaction is worth saying so.

The younger man wears a look of confusion, then disgust, then something like confusion and pride, and he can’t seem to make any sounds that resemble words for a solid twenty seconds. Harry counts. 

“We appreciate your help, Cisco,” Caitlin says, fondly exasperated, before Cisco manages to speak, “but you should probably only ask questions you really want answers to.”

“That’s probably a good rule for me to follow from now on, yeah,” he agrees before looking between Harry and Caitlin, contemplative. “Okay then, one last question before we all go get some sleep: are the two of you together now or what?”

Harry looks back at Caitlin, and any momentary jitters are immediately quelled by the amount of affection (one might even say love) in her eyes.

“Yes, Cisco,” he says.

Caitlin finishes: “We are.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team has a mission. Harry and Caitlin are distracted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy belated birthday, ClaudiaRain. Have some team dynamics! Just one more chapter after this, and that’ll be sex and feels, no plot. I tried to rewatch the episode that prompted this whole fic, but CW has taken it down. I skimmed back over the episode transcript, but if there are any inconsistencies with what happened with the tricksters…
> 
> Ignore it. we’re just having fun here. I love you guys.

“Really, I think we’re missing out on some fantastic opportunities, here.”

After a very brief night’s sleep (actual sleep only, which is both needed and unfortunate), the team is out trying to clean up any possible remainder of poison where Axel and his mother held them hostage. Most of the team is trying, anyway. Ralph is making sure everyone knows he’s opposed to the idea of eradicating the threat entirely.

“We’d want a screening process, obviously,” he’s saying, “so it can’t be used for evil. But as long as we have that, where’s the harm?”

“Where’s the harm in exposing people to deadly poison on  _ purpose?” _ Cisco challenges via earpiece.

Caitlin shakes her head, meeting Harry’s eyes for a few seconds longer than she needs to while Cisco and Ralph continue bickering. It would’ve been nice to stay in bed, but doing this, a mission with the team while knowing she and Harry are  _ together, _ listening to the team argue and insult in ways that do nothing to hide the affection all around…

It’s pretty great, too.

She looks away, taking in the building. She was a little distracted the last time she was here, what with the impending doom and all. It’s an eclectic mix of warehouse and traveling carnival, just as unbalanced as its former occupants, if not quite as threatening.

“Caitlin,” Iris says over the comms finally, “you and Harry go check out the room where the Axid was stored. That’s probably more likely where Harry got exposed. Ralph, you take the main room.”

“Why do I have to be by myself?” Ralph protests mildly, moving to obey her orders regardless of any objections. “And Harry and Caitlin are just going to go make goo goo eyes at each other.” He pauses. “Which, I might add, is a great argument in favor of keeping this poison, right? We decided them getting together is a good thing, so if this caused it, we should be thanking it rather than destroying it.”

“Ralph…” Iris manages a stern, disapproving tone, and Ralph sighs.

“Fine. I’ll drop it. What am I looking for again?”

Harry speaks up while he and Caitlin move into the other room. “Anything that doesn’t look like it should be here: a powder, a goo, a gas. We already ruled out the Axid, so ignore that. But be careful of it, just in case.”

“I’m not stupid, Harry,” Ralph retorts before getting distracted. “Oh look! Another clown.”

Caitlin chuckles and shakes her head, and Harry turns to look at her fondly. They’re out of sight of their teammate, and this isn’t a mission that requires the two at the lab to have any visuals. She glances at the doorway and then steps in close to Harry. He wraps an arm around her, pulling her even closer, and she melts at his touch. She meets his lips for a kiss that quickly becomes anything but chaste, and she thinks that this is the furthest she’s felt from being in danger of becoming Frost while on a mission.

In their ear, Cisco clears his throat. “May I remind everyone, nobody in particular of course, that part of the reason I stayed behind is so that I can monitor what the heat signatures in the building look like in case that helps us track this shit down?”

Right. Well, the team at the lab doesn’t have  _ many _ visuals. The kiss stops, regretfully. Harry smiles at her wryly, then presses one more kiss to Caitlin’s lips before they step apart.

Ralph doesn’t leave Cisco’s friendly reminder unaddressed. “They were kissing, weren’t they?” he says knowingly. “I knew they were gonna get distracted.”

To her surprise, Cisco tries to cover for them, at least half-heartedly. “Dibny,” he says, lowering his voice dramatically, “I find your lack of faith disturbing.” Harry snorts. Cisco pounces. “Hey, I heard that! That wasn’t Ralph. Harry, did you just understand a Star Wars reference  _ and  _ think it was funny?”

“That doesn’t sound like me,” Harry deadpans. “Does that sound like me, Caitlin?”

“Nope,” she answers, not bothering to hide the smile in her voice, “it doesn’t sound like you at all.”

“Fine,” Cisco grumbles, “you two keep on being distracted, what do I care.”

“Okay,” Iris interrupts, “everyone needs to be paying at least a little bit of attention, here. We  _ are _ dealing with a deadly poison,” she reminds them.

It’s a fair reminder, honestly.

“We can concentrate,” Caitlin says. “We’ll be good.”

Harry raises his eyebrows like her statement was something suggestive, and Caitlin raises her eyes toward the ceiling before turning to actually pay attention to the room. Harry helps, and they go through the boxes and random items off to the side. It doesn’t take long until they find an unlabeled substance, and the handheld testing device Harry and Cisco tossed together confirms it’s what they are looking for. 

“See,” Harry says when Ralph joins them, “she told you we were good.” Harry carefully seals the box, and Caitlin hands him a polymer similar to what Ralph’s suit is made of, only much more dense, to wrap it and make sure that nothing can escape. A few more minutes to make sure there’s nothing else that looks like an immediate threat, and then they head back to the lab. 

Back at STAR Labs, she and Harry immediately fall into science mode, working with Cisco to neutralize the poison. It’s familiar and comfortable and exhilarating. She and Harry aren’t any different than they were a few days ago, and their dynamic with Cisco seems unchanged. It’s a lot like it was when she first got together with Ronnie, actually; she won’t say her life is  _ better _ than when she’s single, but there’s another layer to it.

Harry’s eyes meet hers, and he smiles before he goes back to his microscope.

Love. The extra layer is love, acknowledged and reciprocated. And it feels amazing.

Iris stands in the doorway, and Caitlin shifts her attention to the other woman.

“How’s it going?” Iris asks.

“We’re almost done, I think,” Caitlin answers. “I’m done with my part, just waiting on those two.” The men are both listening, but they’re pretending not to, and Caitlin can’t help but needle them. “I thought I was the one who should be moving at a  _ glacial _ pace.”

Harry closes his eyes as if pained, and Cisco groans.

“Come on, Caitlin,” says the younger man, “if you’re gonna be making ice puns, at least make them  _ good _ ones.” 

“There are  _ good _ ice puns?” Iris asks, dubious.

“Yes!” Cisco is emphatic.

“Give me an example?” Caitlin asks innocently, smothering a laugh as Harry removes his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Well I mean,” Cisco responds, either not noticing or not caring that she’s teasing, “on the spot I can only think of so much, but you coulda gone with, ‘Your slow pace makes me feel all frosty.’”

“That’s the best you can come up with?” Harry asks, dry.

“I said I was on the spot, Harry,” Cisco protests. “Besides, I’d like to see you do better,” he challenges.

“I could.” Harry replaces his glasses and looks at Cisco for a moment before looking back at his equipment. “However, I have better things to do.”

“Speaking of better things to do,” Iris says, louder than is probably warranted. She tilts her head, inviting Caitlin to join her outside the lab. Once they’re in the Cortex, still in sight of the others through the clear glass, but out of earshot, Iris pins Caitlin with a look, and she knows exactly what’s coming. “So?”

“‘So’ what?” Caitlin asks. She can pretend she doesn’t understand. It’ll buy her a moment or two to decide whether she wants to answer.

“So how was the sex?” Iris asks. “Come on, you have to tell me. I’m deprived right now.” When Caitlin doesn’t answer right away, she tries a different approach. “You don’t have to give me all the gory details. Mostly I just want to make sure you’re okay.” She shrugs one shoulder. “There’s also some curiosity about how good he is, just based on how he acts. Call it the reporter in me.”

“The reporter in you wants to know about sex with Harry.” Caitlin tries to keep a straight face, but when Iris shrugs again, she chuckles and gives in. “It was really good.” She looks over Iris’s shoulder at the man in question, who’s arguing with Cisco while still working. “It was really,  _ really _ good.”

Iris watches her until Caitlin can drag her attention back to her friend. “You’re so far gone,” she teases, but she looks happy. “I’m glad things are good between you.” A mischievous smile creeps across her face. “Now go tell Harry I said nothing else has to be done today, and I don’t want to see either of you again until tomorrow at the earliest. Unless there’s an emergency, in which case you’ll be notified. Carefully. And not in person.”

She reaches out and pulls Caitlin into a hug. Caitlin freezes (ha! and they think she can’t do good puns) for only a moment before she returns the friendly embrace. Iris leaves, and Caitlin walks decisively back into the lab. She meets Cisco’s eyes, and he sighs before quietly leaving, rolling his eyes and giving her a thumbs up on the way out. She takes a moment to be grateful for her friends and teammates, then approaches Harry. 

“Iris says we should go,” she tells him.

He reaches out and takes her hand without looking away from what he’s doing. “I’m almost done here, and then we can go rest.”

Caitlin tries again. “There’s nothing else here that we have to do right now, and I believe we agreed we were going to try something again, but slower this time.”

He blinks and turns to look at her, every line of his body going hard and alert in the most delicious way. His eyes are already dark behind his glasses.

“I believe you’re right.” He scans her body, and she feels her skin tingle before he returns his gaze to hers. “What are we waiting for?”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caitlin and Harry get some alone time, with full range of motion and no poison involved. They make the best of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this story didn’t get finished anything like on time, but it’s still technically a birthday present. Have some smut! (That’s what friends do for birthday presents, right? Uh...)
> 
> Anyway, right, so yeah, sorry for the longest hiatus from writing that I’ve taken since I started writing. The last months have been a lot, and I appreciate your patience, all of you!

Harry doesn’t actually remember the walk back to his rooms. He’s sure the poison is entirely out of his system (they’d even double checked rather than going by lack of symptoms, and all his levels are normal), but it still feels like the very idea of contact with Caitlin sets his whole body alight. As such, his concentration on anything else is sorely lacking compared to his usual level of alertness.

Still, whether he remembers the trek or not, they make it back to his place, and the door has barely clicked into place behind them before his lips are on Caitlin’s. He walks her backward until she’s leaning against a wall. One of his hands cradles her head as they press against the hard surface, and the other roams her torso, caressing her through her clothes. She moans against his lips, and he presses against her, his movements becoming more deliberate and pointed.

His fingers slip under her shirt, but of course Caitlin isn’t content to be a passive participant; she takes over, stripping off her shirt and tossing it to the floor, leaving her chest just barely covered in a blue bra that seems to strain to contain her. 

“This can’t be comfortable,” he murmurs, tracing a finger along the edges of the bra, taking note of the fact that her breathing is heavier than usual, her eyes dark and wanting. 

“Maybe you should take it off, then,” Caitlin challenges, holding her breath while Harry’s eyes flick to hers. “I really didn't plan to wear it long,” she adds when he doesn't immediately move. 

“Caitlin Snow,” Harry says in mock consternation, “are you telling me you put on underthings for the express purpose of having them removed?” His hands slip down to her waist and tease at the band of her skirt.

“Yes,” she says, eyebrow raised, “by you. And I’m still waiting.”

Harry makes a show of backing up half a step–not enough to lose contact entirely–before looking deliberately up and down her body. Her hair is only slightly mussed, her eyes dark, an impatient smile playing at her lips. She’s still breathing harder than usual, and it’s easy for his attention to move to her chest, with its perfect curves. He follows the curves lower, to her waist, her hips, down her toned legs, then back up again, just as slow and deliberate, and by the time his gaze lands back on her face, her expression is entirely  _ want _ , and Harry’s pants feel much too tight.

He steps in close again, claiming her lips with his own, and she gives as good as she gets, pulling him even closer, pressing herself against him as best she can while she’s pinned against the wall.

“Harry,” she threatens after a few minutes, “take off my bra or let me do it.”

He chuckles at her impatience (it’s easier than recognizing his own impatience) and lets his fingers trace slowly up her back and to the clasp of her bra. He unhooks it, but he doesn’t take it off, not yet. Instead, he slips his hands back around until he can slide a thumb under each cup, grazing nipples that are already erect, reveling in her unsteady intake of breath.

“You see, Caitlin,” he says while he can still be coherent, “when I'm not under the influence, I like to take my time. I like to make sure that foreplay isn't just a necessary stop en route to the grand finale, but an event in and of itself.” He takes a moment to kiss her, stroking his thumbs along her once more as he traces the seam of her lips with his tongue. “Besides,” he continues, pulling away just enough to speak, “I believe I promised to lick you until you couldn't scream. Is that what you want, Snow?”

“That’s…” Caitlin’s voice is barely stronger than a whisper, and she swallows and tries again. “That’s good, yeah,” she says, pausing long enough to kiss him. “Though I won’t exactly object if we get a bit carried away and things happen faster—”

She squeaks as he lifts her without warning. Her legs wrap around his waist, and he makes sure she can rest her shoulders against the wall so his hands are free.

“Faster, hmm?” For all he wants to tease Caitlin about her difficulty speaking, his own voice is almost a growl. He takes off her bra, exposing her to him properly (gloriously), and sets to work, adjusting their positions until he can reach her chest, then licking, sucking, stroking until she utters his name in almost a whine.

He never was good at refusing a plea from this woman.

Harry straightens and carries her to his bed, kissing her again as soon as her back is against the mattress, letting her find friction against the thigh he rests between her legs. He gathers his concentration with some difficulty; while he isn’t as consumed by every touch as he was while poisoned, this is still Caitlin, and her touch is electrifying. 

“What do you want, Caitlin?” he asks when he can manage, rocking against her before she speaks.

“You,” she answers, sliding her hands along his back. The feel of cloth against his skin reminds him he’s still fully dressed. He laughs at the forgotten barrier, and she joins in, and then in a flurry of cooperative movement, they’ve stripped themselves and each other of all clothing. 

It takes a few moments of admiring her before he realizes she’s checking him out just as actively. He smirks, then kisses her again, kisses her until both their hands are wandering and they’re breathing heavily once more, and then he makes his way down her body, cataloguing every moan, gasp, and sigh on the way to his destination.

“Harry!”

As soon as his tongue strokes her clit, Caitlin comes apart, her back arching as she presses into his mouth. He doesn’t stop, coaxing another orgasm out of her a few minutes later, then pressing on until she’s about to come again, finally stopping when she tugs on his hair. He surges back up her body, and she tilts her hips and pulls him into her wet heat.

“Fuck, Caitlin,” he hisses, dropping his face to her shoulder as he tries not to give into his own orgasm just yet.

“Yes,” Caitlin pants, shifting under him and using her hands to pull him further into her. “Fuck Caitlin.”

He huffs at the bad joke, then lifts his head so he can meet her eyes as he starts moving properly, harder and faster at her urging, and her eyes flutter shut as she comes again and pulls him over the edge with her. He’s pretty sure time stops for several seconds, and as he comes down to earth, he makes a semi-serious mental note to see whether time travel could be unlocked by orgasms. It seems worth exploring, with the right partner.

Harry rolls to his side but keeps Caitlin under his arm, and she kisses him before chuckling contentedly. 

“Still good without the poison?” she asks lightly. “Or was Ralph right that we should market it for its beneficial properties?”

“Still good,” he answers seriously, kissing her again. “Still amazing. Still want to repeat it again soon.”

“Good,” Caitlin says, sounding sleepy now. “Often as we want to.”

He pulls her more solidly against him, and she helps, settling against his chest and closing her eyes. Her breath evens out, and he’s pretty sure she’s asleep, and it’s…

It’s not perfect, just yet. They still have to figure out her coexistence with Killer Frost, for one thing, but he really doesn’t think it’ll be that hard if they’re actually working together, especially with the new relaxation techniques now at their disposal (he really does think a lot of her problem is stress, and being too hard on herself). They’ll also need to make sure they can overcome any obstacles in working together while also sleeping together, but they’ve both done it before, and he’s sure they can do it again.

So it’s not perfect just yet, not quite, but Harry is 100% sure it will be. He and the woman he loves are both very smart, and now that they’ve pretty much got things figured out…

Yeah. It’s going to be perfect.


End file.
